202 HENRY KIEKE WHITE S REMAINS. 



Nymph of the Trent ! why didst not thou appear 

 To snatch the victim from thy felon wave ? 



Alas ! too late thou eam'st to embalm his bier, 

 And deck with water- flags his early grave. 



III. 



Triumphant, riding o'er its tumid prey, 

 Rolls the red stream in sanguinary pride ; 



"While anxious crowds, in vain, expectant stay, 

 And ask the swoln corse from the murdering tide. 



The stealing tear-drop stagnates in the eye, 

 The sudden sigh by friendship's bosom proved, 



I mark them rise — I mark the gen'ral sigh : 

 Unhappy youth ! and wert thou so beloved? 



V. 



On thee, as lone I trace the Trent's green brink, 

 When the dim twilight slumbers on the glade ; 



On thee ray thoughts shall dwell, nor Fancy shrink 

 To hold mysterious converse with thy shade. 



VI. 



Of t'uce, as early I, with vagrant feet, 



Hail the grey-sandal'd morn in Colwick's vale 



Of thee my sylvan reed shall warble sweet, 

 And wild wood echoes shall repeat the tale. 



VII. 



And oh ! ye nymphs of Paeon ! who preside 

 O'er running rill and salutary stream. 



Guard ye in future well the Halcyon tide 

 From the rude Death-shriek and the dying scream. 



